


Bedtime

by Silent_So_Long



Series: otpprompts [26]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard, Paul and a sleepy night at a desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on tumblr’s otpprompts: [Imagine Person A of your OTP falling asleep at their desk and Person B picking them up and tucking them into bed.](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/113424714180/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-falling-asleep-at)

Paul stirred a little restlessly in bed, slipping from the warm embrace of his dreams into a far chillier wakefulness. The night was a cold one, and the air was almost icy against Paul’s skin when he accidentally dislodged the covers from his body. He shivered and pulled the covers ever more closely about his body; he snuggled down beneath them, relishing the extra warmth that they afforded him. He smiled to himself, and his eyes drooped closed as he yawned loudly into the still silence of his bedroom. 

He turned over when a sudden cramp in his leg made him uncomfortable; he frowned when he realized that he still was alone beneath the covers. Richard’s side of the bed lay as empty as it had when Paul had retired for the night; the other man had promised that he would be getting into bed soon after Paul himself did. 

Paul checked the clock on Richard’s bedside cabinet; it was just after midnight and Paul himself had been in bed for a little under two hours. He frowned; he wondered if Richard was alright, whether he’d fallen ill and was, even now, in dire straits in his little office. He chided himself for being stupid, and tried to reassure himself that Richard couldn’t possibly be ill, yet still that cold frisson of doubt remained and refused to let him go. 

After laying in bed for some sleepless minutes, Paul decided that he was too awake and too keyed up to go back to sleep; with a sigh, he swung his legs out of bed, hissing slightly at the cold wash of air slapping against every scrap of exposed skin upon his body. He missed his slippers on the first try; on the third attempt he managed to slot his feet into the well-worn fuzzy nap of them. Hastily, he pulled his nightgown on, tying the soft belt about his waist and snuggling down into the fuzzy thickness of it. Outside, he could clearly hear rain dashing against the walls and the windows, in a soothing cadence. It had been raining all day, and the weather report for the next day looked bad as well. Paul was only glad that neither he nor Richard were required to go anywhere; instead, they could stay safely at home all day if need be. As such, it didn’t really matter how late they stayed up, yet earlier in the evening, Richard had professed a tiredness that was echoed in his eyes, and made dark shadows beneath them. 

Paul shuffled through the apartment, stopping only once to pour himself a glass of orange juice, which he downed in three giant gulps. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he had been until then; he paused to pour another glass of juice, just in case Richard wanted one. He shuffled through to the office, noticing as he did so that the light still was on, although the room itself was silent. The office, however, was more recording studio and music room than anything else; it was equipped with a digital portable eight track studio, along with a computer boasting the best recording software currently available. 

Guitars lined the walls, and cables often snaked haphazardly across the floor; it was a wonder that either one of them hadn’t suffered an accident in the times they’d snagged wayward toes and almost sprawled across the floor. He pushed the door open and was just about to speak, when he saw Richard, head resting against the desk beside the computer, body and face relaxed in sleep. The computer monitor still glowed, but the screensaver was running, proving that Richard had been asleep for at least ten or fifteen minutes already. Paul couldn’t stop the resultant smile whilst he watched the slideshow that served as a screensaver; some of the photos were of the both of them on their last holiday together, cuddling and kissing and mugging for the camera whilst surrounded by the sights and sounds of busy London streets. 

It seemed a shame to Paul to disturb the other man, so far gone was Richard in sleep, yet he knew that if he left him, Richard would only complain of cramp and cricks in the neck in the morning. He sighed and padded forward, before he set the glass of orange juice aside. He made short work of saving Richard’s work before he shut the computer down; he clicked the plug off at the wall once he was confident that the computer had powered off fully.

Richard still had yet to stir, breathing heavy and regular in the silence of the small room. Again, Paul felt a stab of guilt over disturbing Richard's sleep, yet he knew that it could hardly be helped. He reached out, splayed one hand against the soft curve of the other man’s shoulder, before he gently shook Richard into at least partial wakefulness. 

“Reesh? Reesh, wake up, liebchen; you need to get to bed,” Paul said, as Richard’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Hmm?” Richard said, sleepily, but it was obvious that he was not connecting properly, mind still too sleep fogged to make sense of anything that Paul was saying. 

“Come to bed with me, liebchen,” Paul said, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face at the dozy way that Richard was blinking up at him.

Richard’s face was bisected by a sudden yawn, eyes hooded and still a little unfocussed from sleep. Richard grunted something unintelligible at him and almost laid his head back down upon the desk once more to go back to sleep.

“No, Reesh, come to bed. You’ll only complain in the morning,” Paul said, as he tugged at Richard’s hand.

Richard cursed sleepily at him, yet still allowed Paul to pull him to his feet by both hands. Richard stumbled into Paul, and rested heavily against him, head thudding down upon Paul’s shoulder as he complained truculently about being tired.

“I know, liebchen; that’s why you really need to go to bed,” Paul said, unable to stifle the sudden laughter that Richard’s tired mulish behavour invoked. 

Richard sighed and yawned against him, but made no effort to move. Paul sighed and slung one arm about Richard’s waist and encouraged the other man to move again. Richard surprisingly complied without too much fuss and bother; Paul stopped only long enough to click the light off, before they both shuffled down the corridor and back into the bedroom once more. Paul remembered, too late, that he’d left the glass of juice behind, yet didn’t really have the time to return for it. Richard had already collapsed upon the bed, hands immediately rising to tug Paul beneath the covers with him. Paul didn’t have the heart to protest, especially when Richard gave him one of his sleepy, pleading looks that Paul could never ignore.

“Go to sleep,” Richard yawned against him.

Paul snorted at him and tried to pull the covers over them both; Richard was a dead weight against his body and did not help him out. His legs weighed down the blankets, preventing them from being lifted over their bodies.

“Richard, move, you great lump or you'll get cold,” Paul said, as he nudged Richard’s leg with one splayed hand.

“Fuck off; I‘m comfortable,” Richard mumbled into the pillow. 

“Come on, now, Reesh, not funny any more,” Paul said. “You won’t get sex for a week if you don’t move.”

“Hard task-master, Paul,” Richard mumbled into the pillow, yet Paul was glad to see that the other man finally moved.

He thought it was the threat of no sex that had finally done it; he snorted and shook his head at the other man, even though Richard couldn’t see him. He finally managed to settle the covers over them both, before he snuggled beneath them himself; Richard settled in a little more closely, arm a trapping weight against Paul’s waist.

They lay in silence for a while, yet for all his tiredness of before, Paul could tell that Richard was not yet asleep. His breathing was too light, the weight of his arm not truly heavy enough to indicate sleep. He sighed into the silence, even as Richard's voice whispered through the darkness, barely audible over the sound of the rain drumming over the windows.

“Are you still awake, Paul?” he asked. 

“No,” Paul said. “I’m asleep and so should you be.” 

“You’re surprisingly alert for someone who’s asleep,” Richard mumbled against Paul’s shoulder. “You sure you're not awake?” 

“I’m sure,” Paul said, but his smile gave him away and warmed his tone.

“You’re not a very good liar, Paul,” Richard muttered, even as the first press of his lips was felt against Paul’s fingertips. 

Paul sighed into the silence, as Richard moved his way up Paul’s hand to his knuckles; more kisses were dropped against them, before Paul felt Richard press teasing nips and licks against the inside of his wrist. Paul felt the first stirring of arousal against the front of his pyjama bottoms; the inside of his wrists had always been amongst his most sensitive spots and Richard knew to take advantage of every single one of them.

He sighed out Richard’s name into the darkness, the sigh turning swiftly into a deep moan of need. Richard’s laughter, when it came, was dark and aroused against Paul’s wrist.

“Are you awake, now, Paul?” he asked.

“You bet,” Paul said, and he didn’t bother to mask the evidence of his arousal in his tone. 

Richard’s laugh blasted against his wet skin, before Richard nuzzled against the soft nap of Paul’s robe.

“You’re still wearing your nightgown,” he said, and there was a hint of surprise in his tone at that discovery. “Surely it’s not that cold tonight.”

“I hardly had the time to take it off before you pulled me into bed, you impatient piece of filth,” Paul said, with a laugh. 

“I am gonna get filthy in a minute, if you’ll let me,” Richard promised. “If you'll only take that damn robe off.”

“And the rest,” Paul said. 

“Hmm,” Richard said, as he nuzzled against Paul’s throat with lips and with tongue,

Paul closed his eyes, breathing a little harsh in the silence, before he struggled far enough away to wriggle out of robe and pyjamas. The air still was chill against his skin which raised goose-pimples. He shivered pleasurably and snuggled beneath the covers; he waited until Richard had also undressed, all vestiges of sleep now forgotten in the face of love-making. 

It didn’t take them long before Richard was preparing the other man, hands assured and confident against Paul's body; Paul’s breathing was harsh and irregular in the rain washed darkness of their bedroom; their bodies joined and Paul’s breathing grew harsher still, moans interspersing the jagged breaths. Richard rocked into him, hand wrapped around Paul’s cock and stroking him in time with his thrusts, other hand propped against Paul’s hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. Paul didn’t care; those bruises would serve as a reminder that he’d been claimed, and willingly so. 

All further thought was washed away in the build-up and release of his climax, and Richard’s name was cried out into the rain soaked darkness, repeated and repeated and repeated again, as Richard cursed his way through his own climax as well. They rode their orgasms out to the last before they parted; Paul avoided the wet spot upon the sheets, body relaxed and languid against Richard’s, limbs tangled comfortably together as Richard snuggled against him, hands and lips everywhere that they could conceivably reach. Paul’s hands were openly caressing Richard’s body, re-learning every well-loved plane of his lover’s body; he reached up to trace fingers against Richard’s smiling mouth, before his lips pressed kisses against the pads of Paul’s fingers. 

“Go to sleep, Paul,” Richard said, eventually.

Paul huffed out a disgusted note at that, yet still he smiled, a smile that Richard could feel when he pressed a kiss against his mouth. Paul rested against Richard’s body, forehead fitting comfortably against the juncture between Richard’s neck and shoulder, the other man’s arms a comfortable press against his back. Paul felt safe in his lover’s arms and he still was smiling when he fell asleep against Richard's chest.


End file.
